


Tiptoe

by labellelunaclaire



Series: AUgust 2020 [19]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labellelunaclaire/pseuds/labellelunaclaire
Summary: Day 19 — 19th CenturyJournalist Elena Fisher is looking to break into the big times like her hero, Nellie Bly. But when she sees a suspicious man hanging around at the elite party she’s meant to be reporting on, she might find an even bigger story in the making.
Relationships: Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher
Series: AUgust 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860763
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Tiptoe

**Author's Note:**

> So it turns out that most of my fandoms are already set in the 1800’s, so I was a little limited with which fandoms to choose from.

Elena felt out of place.

Not only was she under dressed, but she didn’t know anyone in this grand house. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she’d been invited to this event.

The rich party guests milled around in their finery, the men in neatly tailored tails, the women in fine silk with scandalously low cut bodices and elaborate bustle skirts.

Elena did not have an evening gown like all of the ladies. She wore her nicest day dress, light blue cotton with long sleeves and a modest bustle. She stood out, attracted stares and glares. She tried to ignore it, and focused on the task at hand — writing notes in her journal for her article.

She was no Nellie Bly, but she hoped that reporting on a wealthy, eclectic aristocrat’s event might help her move more in that direction.

She spoke to a few guests (ones who looked at her with interest and not disdain) and found herself wandering around the house, taking in all of the nicknacks and curios that lined the many shelves and tables, even sketching a few in case she needed to describe them in her article.

She was scribbling down notes in her journal when she turned and bumped into an older man with a cigar in his mouth.

“Pardon me, young lady,” he said in a gruff voice, steadying her so she didn’t stumble into anything. “My mistake.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, sir,” she replied, closing her journal quickly. “Shouldn’t try to write and walk in a crowded room.”

“At least you were admiring the artifacts,” he said. “That’s something most of this lot could stand to do a little more of. It’s a damn shame such beautiful things go ignored in favor of vapid small talk. Sullivan, by the way. Victor Sullivan.” He held out his hand.

“Elena Fisher,” she said, taking his hand firmly. “I’m a journalist.”

His eyes went wide with surprise. “You don’t see a lot of lady journalists out there,” he commented. “Especially not landing invitations to events like this.”

She smiled at him. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Must be,” he agreed. “Well, Miss Fisher, it has been a pleasure talking with you. I hope our paths cross again sometime.”

“You as well, Mr. Sullivan.”

Victor Sullivan nodded his head and turned away, parting the crowd easily. Elena looked after him for a second before something caught her eye.

Across the room. A young man, tall and handsome, stood near a roped off staircase, carefully watching the room. Something felt off about him, the way he lingered in the half shadows. Like he was waiting for something.

Elena slowly placed her journal inside the pocket of her skirt and began to make her way slowly around the room, pretending to still be paying attention to the artifacts on the shelves, all the while stealing glances towards the man.

Finally, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him move, swiftly and easily ducking under the red velvet rope and taking the narrow stairs two at a time until he disappeared out of sight.

Elena moved quicker towards the stairs, trying not to draw too much attention to herself. Luckily, the punch was beginning to flow more freely now, and fewer people seemed to care what she was doing. She cast one glance at the crowd to make sure no one was watching her, and then carefully ducked under the rope and began to climb the stairs.

She hiked up her skirt and petticoats so she wouldn’t trip and tried to make her footsteps as quiet as possible. Luckily, the stairs weren’t prone to squeaking.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she strained her ears, trying to block out the sounds of the party below, and began to slowly walk down the hall, which was lined with heavy wooden doors. There were no lights on, shrouding the hall in darkness, illuminated only by the pale light seeping up from below.

Finally, she saw a door that was just ever so slightly ajar.

She drew as close as she could to the door, her breathing sounding far too loud as her body pulsed with excitement. She carefully peered inside through the miniscule crack in the door.

The room appeared to be some sort of study, with a sturdy desk of dark wood and massive bookshelves filled with books everywhere. There was a soft blue light coming in from the window behind the desk.

Elena could hear some quiet shuffling sounds coming from beyond her range of vision, and she knew that the man must be inside.

She stood up straight and took a deep, calming breath. She could do this. If Nellie Bly could spend ten days in an asylum, she could face whoever this strange man was.

Unless he had a gun with him. But that was just going to have to be a risk she was willing to take to move up in her career.

Right?

Steeling her nerves, she pushed the door open.

The man was standing on the right side of the room, near one of the shelves that held on it a collection of artifacts even more impressive than what was downstairs in the parlors. Masks, knives, goblets, all glimmering with gold and fine jewels. At the sound of the door opening, the man turned around, his hands behind his back as if he were hiding something.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Elena said quickly, as though her being here was simply an accident. “I just meant to get away from the noise of the party for a few minutes. I didn’t expect to find anyone else up here.”

“The guests are, uh, supposed to stay downstairs,” the man said quickly, his hands still behind his back.

“But, you’re up here, aren’t you?” Elena asked easily with a conversational smile, taking a few steps towards him. “I saw you downstairs earlier. Are you not a guest?”

The man’s face twisted into a slight grimace. Elena knew she had caught him in a lie.

“What are you doing up here, anyways?” she continued, pretending to look around the room at the collection of books that lined each of the shelves. “Did you want to get away from the party as well?”

“Uh, um, yeah,” he said nervously. “Not a fan of crowds.”

“Oh, me neither,” she responded, touching the spine of one of the books as though inspecting it further.

“Nathan, what’s-” a voice asked from the door, cutting off abruptly. “Miss Fisher. What a surprise to see you up here.”

She turned to the door, not entirely surprised to see Victor Sullivan standing at the threshold.

“What a pleasure to run into you again, Mr. Sullivan,” she said cheerfully. “Now, what are you two doing, sneaking around in a restricted area of the house?”

Sullivan and the younger man — Nathan, he’d been called — looked at each other nervously.

“I can take a guess, if you’d prefer,” Elena offered, taking a confident step towards Nathan. “It seems as though I’ve caught you two  _ stealing _ while everyone is downstairs at the party. Am I close.”

“Look, I don’t want there to be any trouble,” Nathan said quickly.

“Neither do I,” Elena agreed, taking another step. “So you’d best just put whatever you’re hiding behind you back where you found it and leave this party immediately, or I’ll have to start making some noise, and I’m sure that’s the last thing you want.”

“You said you were a journalist, didn’t you, Miss Fisher?” Sullivan asked, edging around the room closer to Nathan. “Well, what if we offer you a deal that you can’t refuse?”

“What the hell are you doing, Sully?” Nathan asked.

“Trying to get all of us what we want, Nate,” Sullivan replied. “Now, Miss Fisher, I assume a young, hard working female journalist like yourself must be a fan of Miss Nellie Bly?”

Elena froze. “Of course,” she answered reluctantly. “The things she’s doing for women in journalism are monumental. I don’t know a woman in the field who doesn’t at least respect her fortitude.”

“And so I’m sure you’ll know that she just recently completed a trip around the world in just seventy-two days.”

“I’m not seeing what this has to do with anything,” she said sharply.

“My friend and I are a particular kind of explorer,” he explained. “We’re here tonight to temporarily misappropriate an artifact that will lead us to the discovery of a lifetime. And if you choose to work  _ with _ us, you’ll get to write the big story. Then everyone will forget all about Nellie Bly and be talking about you, Elena Fisher.”

She was tempted. So very tempted.

“And what exactly is this ‘discover of a lifetime’? What could possibly be worth selling my integrity to two thieves?” she demanded, crossing her arms across her chest and staring the two men down.

Nathan smiled at her and showed her what he had hidden behind his back. The object in his hand was small, barely the size of a cigarette box and looked like it was made of pure gold. It was elaborately carved.

“Take a look,” he said, handing the object over.

She took it hesitantly and turned it over in her hands, examining the engravings.

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?” she asked.

“You’re looking at the key to finding the lost city of El Dorado,” Nathan told her, the smile on his face widening. “And you’ll get to be the person who writes the article explaining how we did it.”

She paused, staring down at the little lump of gold. She ran her thumbs over the image of a man.

This was wrong. Stealing was  _ wrong. _ But what they were offering… it was her dream. Travel the world. See the previously unseen. Tell the world about her discoveries.

“So, what do you say, Miss Elena Fisher?” Nathan asked. “Are you going to take your chance at the impossible, or are you going to start screaming and get us arrested?”

“The choice is yours, sweetheart,” Sullivan added. “But we can catapult your career far past what you can achieve at this party.”

She kept looking at the little artifact.

And then —

“And once we find it, we’re returning this, right?”

She looked up at the two thieves, who were both smiling at her.

“Absolutely,” Nathan said. “You can even hold onto it for safekeeping and hand deliver it when we get back.”

Elena took a deep breath.

“I’m in,” she said finally.

“Welcome on board, Miss Fisher,” Nathan said, extending his hand for her to shake. “I’m Nathan Drake.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place around 1890, because I wanted Elena to be a fan of and inspired by Nellie Bly, who is basically the mother of investigative journalism. She’s super awesome and I highly suggest reading her wikipedia page because she’s really cool.


End file.
